


Moonfall

by ScripStrel



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - No Squip, Brooke is playing conspiracy theorist, Celestial AU, First Kiss, Flowers, Fluff, Freeform, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Language, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mythology - Freeform, Mythology References, Pining, Pokemon References, Reincarnation, Self-Doubt, Sharing a Bed, Sickfic, Slow Burn, Solar Flares, Star Christine, Summer, Sun Michael, Theatre, Urban Fantasy, everyone else is human, fluff with some plot, moon Jeremy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-05-14 19:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14775491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScripStrel/pseuds/ScripStrel
Summary: Jeremy and Michael have been best friends for ages, going through this same cycle, and Jeremy was a mess.As if he wasn't preoccupied enough by Michael being the literal light of his life (a fact he was really trying not to focus too hard on), there was this new issue.Brooke was lovely. Really, she was, but she was starting to make him nervous. Leave it to his stupid Social Studies final to leave him stressed all summer too.Yeah, they were screwed.Basically, I'm in love with Arieryn's Celestial AU, and thought we needed more content for it. Credits to @arieryn on tumblr for the Celestial Kings AU this is loosely based on.





	1. We're Screwed

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly setup. I promise there will be more focus on the AU and the pining in the later chapters.

“Christine, we’re screwed.” She looked up at Jeremy over her script, blowing a lock of hair out of her face and raising an eyebrow.

“The last time you said that, it was just because the vending machine was out of order and you had to eat the school lunch. So are we talking good screwed or bad screwed?”

“What the Hell is good screwed?” he said with a groan, sitting across from her. She stared at him for a few moments, biting her lip and fiddling with her silver star earrings. Jeremy sighed and put his head down on the table. It just had to be one of those days. He was beyond drained. He wasn’t sure if he should blame his own lousy sleep schedule or Michael for deciding that Mountain Dew was the only drink worth having in the house, even when their study-turned-gaming hangout session went way too late on a school night. Or maybe it was something else, Hell if he knew. He was  _ so _ not ready for finals to start tomorrow.

“You look awful,” Christine said from somewhere above him.

“Thanks, I hadn’t noticed.” He forced his head up, ears ringing. He had, in fact, noticed. He hated that he’d noticed, because he tried not to care, but when the bags under his eyes were this prominent and his hair wouldn’t do anything but look limp and greasy and he was just as pale as usual but somehow without the ever-present blush that usually at least made him look alive, well, let’s just say a few of his classmates had pointed it out too. “I’m just tired.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re basically nocturnal anyway. What’s wrong?” Jeremy squinted out the wide cafeteria windows. He liked spring, he really did, it just looked  _ too _ colorful most of the time. There’s no way the sky was actually that blue or that  _ everything _ could have flowers on it. Yet here they were. The main thing pissing him off was that the sun was too bright, too. The jerk couldn’t tone it down for one day so he could sleep without his constant cheeriness in his eyes as soon as he actually managed to doze off?

Knowing him, the answer was absolutely not.

“Other than the normal stressed and tired part?” He shifted his weight, fishing his phone out of his pocket and turning it over in his hands. The glow-in-the-dark galaxy-print case was cool and smooth under his fidgeting fingers. He ran his thumb over the popsocket, prying the full-moon patterned disk up and then pressing it back down. It was more calming than it probably should’ve been, but there was still a cold feeling in his gut, really not blending well with his fuzzy, aching head. “I mean, Brooke and I were doing this, this culture project for, um, for our history final and we were looking at, looking at, like old religions, right? Right, and, and—” Jeremy made a noise in his throat and nearly dropped his phone. His voice had been growing loud and shaky and  _ holy shit _ . Why was he getting so worked up? And now everyone was looking at him. Well, not  _ everyone.  _ Jenna was still texting as always, but Chloe had stopped gossipping about this one kid in her English class, and Rich had thrown one last goldfish at Jake, who was too busy glancing warily at Jeremy to catch it in his mouth like he had with the last twenty. 

“You good, man?” Rich asked. 

Jeremy swallowed. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just.” He looked out the window again, this time wishing he could sit out in the sun and just let the warmth wrap around him and help him ignore all the other shit going on. “Michael stayed behind to talk to his math teacher because he hasn’t been doing the homework so his grade’s been slipping, and even the final probably won’t get his grade high enough, but I guess I just didn’t expect it to take this long?”

“Well shit, dude, if I knew I’d be stressing you out, I’d have told Mr. Pink to shut it long before I did, but I had to debate with him whether or not logarithms were actually worth doing homework for in the first place because they’re complete bullshit.” 

Jeremy could sense his friends snicker and roll their eyes as he immediately perked up at Michael’s voice, but he didn’t care. Okay, he cared a little, mostly because he didn’t want Michael to think it was weird, but he didn’t care enough to try to stop it. Michael slid onto the bench next to him with a plastic bag of snacks he’d scrounged from 7/11 before school that morning, and Jeremy let himself melt into his side. Forget sitting out in the sun. This was so much better. Michael was so warm, and Jeremy could feel the glow returning to his skin. Shit. If Michael affected him this much, it was no wonder they got made fun of. And he  _ really _ hoped Michael didn’t notice his heart beating faster or that his blush had returned in full force. Jeremy tried to pass it off as just the fact that Michael was soft and warm and his  _ best friend _ , so obviously he’d be comforting when Jeremy felt like shit. Nothing out of the ordinary here, nope. You know, you’d think he’d have been able to admit it to himself after this long.

He just curled further into Michael’s sweatshirt, laying his head on the sun-shaped patch over his heart. Michael claimed he only got it because he couldn’t find a shine sprite one, but Jeremy knew better. His friend wasn’t  _ just _ a videogame nerd, as much as he liked to pretend to be. 

“Oh, also. Christine, we’re screwed,” Michael said, the vibrations of his voice buzzing in Jeremy’s skull, and reminding him of the issue—why he felt shitty in the first place. They were totally screwed. Yeah, better to think about that than the way his voice made something inside Jeremy’s chest rumble too.

“Yeah, I heard. What’s going on? Jeremy said it had something to do with a project he’s doing with Brooke? What’s wrong with that? Brooke’s wonderful, and there’s no way you’re still hung up on that one time you dated her, because I promise she doesn’t blame you for what happened.” Christine had abandoned her script on the table. It was for a show she was doing at the community theatre over the summer, and as much as Jeremy admired her drive sometimes, he still thought it was pretty stupid for her to be memorized before they’d even done a read-through. Multiple colors of highlighted text blinked at Jeremy and her eyes bored into his skull with concern. 

“No, it’s not that,” Jeremy said, turning his head slightly to look at Christine. “The thing is she’s…” He trailed off as his gaze caught a figure striding over to them.

“Speak of the devil,” Michael muttered.

Brooke waltzed up, her hair and a thin golden shawl billowing behind her. She had a huge pile of books in her arms, all of which were either really old and dusty and gross or brightly colored and looking like they were written for toddlers. You know, those picture books with probably like twenty words total that taught kids their colors and how to share. It was an odd combination. 

“Hi guys,” she sang, plopping herself down next to Christine and dropping the books on the table with a loud thump. “Jeremy, are you feeling better? You look a lot better than you did third period.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he mumbled into Michael’s chest.

“Oh, he’s fine,” Michael said, petting his head, which Jeremy really did  _ try  _ not to lean into, he swears. “It’s just his time of the month, you know?”

Jeremy groaned and swatted Michael’s hand away. “Shut up,” he said, chuckling.

“Wait… that makes no sense. Jeremy, you’re not—”

Jeremy’s face was on fire as Brooke’s question registered in his brain. He shoved himself away from Michael and practically screeched, “What!? No! No! No, it’s not like that, not that kind of—ugh. No, I swear. Just Jeremy. No, um… No, yeah. That.” He forced his mouth closed around his ramblings, knowing he wouldn’t get out anything more coherent than that. He pulled his arms close to his chest, reeled in from their frantic wavings to try to prove his point. Taking a deep breath, he glared at Michael. “I hate you.”

Michael only grinned. “Nah, you don’t. You’ve known me too long to hate me.” Jeremy rolled his eyes, trying not to get locked on Michael’s too-stunning smile. Damn him practically glowing all the time. 

Christine was giggling madly and Jeremy glared at her too, cheeks still warmer than he wanted them to be. He half considered burying himself in Michael again, but that probably wouldn’t help, so he just stole a bag of chips from his lunch pile and ripped it open.

“What’s with the books?” Jeremy asked Brooke around a mouthful of fake barbecue flavoring, doing everything he could to change the subject.

“Oh! I just wanted to get ahead on our ancient civilizations project for history. This sort of thing is really cool! I love looking at old myths and seeing how they translate to modern day.” Jeremy tried to turn his wince into an encouraging smile. Michael was busy trying to steal a chip from him—obviously, he noticed, and he was pretending not to care and also pretending not to notice that  _ look _ in Michael’s eyes that made this weird feeling bubble in his throat—to be paying much attention to the conversation. Christine nodded, her eyes still half-glazed with confusion.

“Jeremy was telling me a little about that. He didn’t get very far.” Jeremy was too busy losing patience and swatting Michael away from his chips to catch Christine’s glance. “What civilization?”

“Well, it’s not exactly a whole civilization, more of a thing where we had to research a long-lost ideology and connect it to a civilization if we could. And I know we just started and we’ll have a lot of time in class on finals day because McNamara is an angel who doesn’t make us do presentations, but the mythology we found is really interesting. It’s sort of spread out all over lots of eras and lots of empires and stuff, but it’s always been kind of obscure and niche, so it only shows up in really old anthologies and, well, picture books.” Brooke waved to her miniature library, bracelets glittering and brightly colored nails tracing along the cover of one. By now, Jeremy was leaning against Michael again and they had both silently conceded to share the chips. Luckily, the conversation wasn’t geared towards them. Jeremy probably couldn’t think straight enough to actually talk when he was so busy ignoring Michael’s arms around him. “And I’ve already found out a lot of cool stuff. The main gods are basically just the sun and moon and sometimes a star or two, and they’re incarnated on the Earth every few generations or so to keep things in order. Some of the stories also say they do it for entertainment or for a love of humanity.”

“Well yeah, if you were stuck spinning in circles for eternity, wouldn’t you like to come check this place out once in a while?” Michael said, making Jeremy’s heart jump into his throat for more than one reason. Jeremy tried to nudge him. A silent  _ shut up, you can’t say things like that. _ Michael flinched away and cleared his throat, getting the message too late. Brooke was giving him a weird look.

“Yeah, sure.” She turned back to Christine. “A few stories also say they do it because they’re in love and it’s the only way they can be together, which I think is adorable.” Jeremy froze.  _ Shit _ . Why couldn’t he keep his feelings in check at least a little? Even the slightest mention of that kind of thing and Michael suddenly felt  _ too _ warm behind him. So much for  _ just best friends _ , as he’d been trying to call it for literal ages. “I love the idea of deities having such strong human feelings. Anyway, I started reading these and started thinking that they make a lot of sense, and you know my brain tends to get out of hand with these sorts of things. I mean, I have slept with a quartz crystal under my pillow for like three years now, and I’m not even sure if it does anything. But I started thinking that it would be really cool to know a god and not know you knew. And then I kept thinking and wondered if maybe I did, and I know this would all be a huge coincidence, but you have noticed the way you two are so attached at the hip, it’s like your life’s purpose is each other, right?” This last bit was directed at Jeremy and Michael. Neither of them moved. Neither of them said anything. Jeremy sent a panicked look to Christine, clinging slightly to Michael’s sweatshirt. Michael coughed and chuckled, both as stiff as his chest was behind Jeremy’s head.

“Yeah, and? That’s what happens when you’ve been best friends as long as we have,” he said. Jeremy was too busy worrying about Brooke to think too much about those words, but they’d probably sting later. Just another reminder that he couldn’t have anything more than that.

Brooke raised her hands in mock surrender as the bell rang. She gathered her books and pranced off, chatting with Chloe and Jenna. Jeremy groaned and held his head in his hands, headache suddenly returning. Michael just sort of patted him on the back. Christine looked at the two of them, eyes wide. 

Gathering his bowling ball of a backpack onto his shoulders, Jeremy wasn’t sure what made his gut wrench more, Brooke’s sudden excitement, or just  _ everything _ about Michael lately. The sun was still too bright. 

“Yeah, we’re screwed,” Christine said.


	2. Flowers and Fireflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also known as:  
> 5 times Brooke notices weird things going on with Michael and Jeremy, and one time they stop trying to hide it from her.
> 
> Number 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These next few chapters might have really inconsistent word counts, sorry.  
> Also, I've never tried writing from Brooke's POV before, so hopefully it goes well.  
> Enjoy!

You’d think that two complete nerds who barely left their TV screen and junk food would hate nature. Completely. Yet here they were, not only having convinced Jeremy and Michael to join the group for a start of the summer picnic, but with them having  _ suggested _ it. Michael said it was because Jeremy got stir-crazy if he went from the constant social interaction of school to almost nothing over the summer and that they had to start early if they were actually going to hang out. Jeremy said it was because Michael was a dick who had gotten spoiled with his new, better friends and he was trying to slowly abandon him by spending more time with everyone else. But he said it with love. There was this look in his eyes when he talked about it (or Michael in general). A sort of glitter of laughter but also something else, something that would probably turn him red as a firetruck if anyone pointed it out to him, as if he hadn’t just been more flustered than usual lately. 

Jeremy had been defensive. It wasn’t super obvious and it wasn’t like he had gone full fight or flight and locked himself in a closet, but he seemed nervous all the time. Brooke hadn’t seen him like that since she’d dated him. It had been a nice change, seeing him grow up and become more confident in himself and around other people. But he was being snippy now, dodging conversations and avoiding eye contact. He was just being rude a lot of the time, especially towards Brooke. What had she done wrong? He’d been like this since their History final. It was just a cool old religion, Jeremy. Why couldn’t she be interested in it? Why had he been so quiet the entire time they were working on it, and why did he refuse to talk about it at all? He hadn’t even done that part of the project. He focused on the civilization they were connecting it to, talking about government and architecture, all things he definitely hated, if their last three projects were anything to go by. 

Maybe he was just being paranoid and protective. Maybe he thought she’d take it too far and join a cult. Maybe he was just pissed she was still talking about it even though school was out. Whatever. It didn’t exactly deter her curiosity, though. If anything, she was more invested now than before, especially because Michael and Christine were being weirdly cautious too. They pretended not to hear her every time she tried to talk about it. Part of it hurt. Shouldn’t her friends be able to trust her enough to tell her what was bugging them? Was she a bad friend for not knowing? Was her best option really to keep trying to figure it out despite their awkward concern? Probably not, but she was going to anyway.

Anyway. Picnic.

It was a gorgeous day. The sky was dotted with thin sheets of fluffy white. There was a lovely little breeze, shifting through Brooke’s hair and through the leaves on the trees. It was warm without being too hot, sunny without being blinding. Birds and crickets were chirping and flowers were in bloom, seeming to burst in color as they approached, and definitely turning to follow them as they passed. It would’ve been eerie if it wasn’t such a nice day and if Brooke wasn’t too busy balancing an overloaded picnic basket on her hip to bother trying to figure it out. She did make a mental note of it, especially as the sunflowers lining the path switched to follow Michael as he doubled back to get something he forgot in his car. 

The group settled in the dappled shade under a tree at the neighborhood park, plastic bags and tupperware scattered between them. Rich was throwing food at Jake again—strawberries this time, which were leaving little pink marks on his shirt every time he missed—and he was laughing too hard to catch that many. Jenna leaned against the tree, sunglasses and a smirk adorning her face. Chloe lay on her back, knees propped up, arms folded across her stomach, smiling to herself as she either dozed or pretended to. Brooke was draped over Chloe’s knees, chatting with Christine, who was babbling animatedly about some of her favorite musicals, which were blasting on shuffle from the bluetooth speaker connected to her phone. Michael was half-invested in conversation with Rich—mostly about him needing to throw better—and half wrestling with Jeremy. It had started with them debating the best installment of some video game series, and had deteriorated to half hearted shoves and jabs. Jeremy was also trying to talk to Christine, helping her create a dream cast for  _ Into the Woods _ in between fending off Michael’s tickles. 

“I don’t know,” Brooke said. “I actually kind of liked Meryl Streep as the witch. She wasn’t funny, but she was mysterious and dramatic.” Both Christine and Jeremy glared at her, causing faint heat to rise to her eyes. “What?”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong, Brooke, but I am saying that when you’re used to Bernadette, everything else is lackluster.” Christine fished a handful of chips out of a bag in their massive food pile. 

“And that CG was  _ awful _ . Like for Red Riding Hood’s song with the really bad animation of her falling into the wolf’s stomach? Or the beanstalk? Or the way the Baker’s Wife gets pregnant as soon as the spell is broken and just grows a belly? The movie’s just really bad,” Jeremy said, holding Michael at arm’s length.

“That’s what I get for trying to debate theatre with you two,” Brooke giggled with a roll of her eyes. “Hey, Chris, can you pass the chips?” Christine slid the bag over. Brooke made to grab for the snacks, but stopped short, jerking away and passing the bag back to her, held lightly between two fingers. “Nope, nevermind. There’s a bug in there, and it looked like a spider.” 

That got everyone’s attention. The entire group scrambled, either in an  _ ooh, cool, I wanna see _ curiosity, or following Brooke in flinching away from the foil bag. Christine pulled it closer to herself, peering into it.

“Oh! That’s not a spider.”

“It’s not?” Rich pouted.

“No, it’s a firefly!” Jeremy shifted closer to her, sticking his face in the bag.

He came up cross-eyed, a blinking light perched on his nose. “Definitely a firefly,” he said, scrunching his face together as it flashed yellow. 

“I think it likes you, dude,” Jake said. 

“I, I guess. Hey!” Jeremy blew at it slightly. “Can you, um, maybe not sit there?” The firefly managed to take the cue, hovering off of his nose and flying around him in circles a few times before floating off, blinking all the while. Jeremy was too busy watching his new friend to notice how Michael was staring at him, eyes wide, lips parted ever so slightly in a smile, watching him like a child would the moon, like he was shining with some ethereal light. Brooke locked eyes with Christine and they both smirked. Michael snapped out of his trance and blushed at their knowing looks. Jeremy was still zoned out, eyes following the firefly, which, yeah, really  _ shouldn’t _ have been out at lunchtime, much less flashing. 

And then Michael tackled Jeremy, forcing him back to reality as peals of laughter rang through the park because Michael was pinning him down and tickling him, finally granted the upper hand in their wrestling match in Jeremy’s distraction. 

Brooke shared another look with Christine as the group settled into their routine again—this time with a soundtrack of Michael and Jeremy’s roughhousing. Those two were cute, especially as they were both grinning and blushing and pretending not to notice. Brooke was almost jealous. 

And as they finished off the food, the sun seemed a bit brighter. 


	3. Groundies and Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also known as:  
> 5 times Brooke notices weird things going on with Michael and Jeremy, and one time they stop trying to hide it from her.
> 
> Number 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Casual bashing of the Into the Woods movie last chapter. My bad.
> 
> This chapter featuring the all-too common occurrence of teenagers acting like complete children, and Brooke may or may not be me in most of these scenarios. It's also a direct continuation of last chapter.  
> Also, deciding Ms. Fleming would be a science teacher because I feel like it, and I know Heather McNamara was also a teacher back in chapter one, but I'm not caring much about time continuity in my casual inserts of characters from other things, sorry.

The nice thing about picnics at the park is that, well, there’s a park. And just because they’re almost adults doesn’t mean they’re going to pass up the opportunity to enjoy themselves. 

The not-so-nice thing is that there are kids at parks. And eight teenagers taking over the playground doesn’t tend to go over so well with the younger generations or their parents, especially when all eight of them tend to be really bad about watching their language.

“Fuck!” Michael said, flinching away from Rich’s hand, which had just brushed his arm as he tried to scramble his was across the monkey bars away from him.

“Michael! Children!” Christine scolded from the top of a slide, but she was smiling. Rich opened his eyes and grinned like a maniac, gesturing Michael to the gravel beneath them. Michael flipped him off and dropped down. 

“One two ten groundies,” Michael called, and everyone scattered away from him, staying to the middle of the playground as he patrolled the outskirts. Brooke watched it all like a hawk from her perch on top of an awning. She didn’t see the point in what was essentially a combination of Marco Polo and tag on a jungle gym, especially because she’d slipped and fallen on her ass—very painfully—the last time she’d played. But it was fun to watch her friends stumble around like idiots.

“Brooke, you should play,” Chloe said. She was sitting halfway up a ladder, well enough out of Michael’s reach.

“No. I’m having fun watching you guys have fun. Besides, someone needs to be ref.”

“Hell yeah. Brooke can tell us when Rich actually manages to tag someone with his short arms,” Jake said, somehow balanced on the outside of a tube slide. 

“Hey! My arms aren’t that short!” Rich had taken Michael’s spot on top of the monkey bars.

“Bro, you’re like five feet tall. Your arms are really short.”

“I tagged Michael, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but anyone can tag Michael,” Jenna pointed out. She wasn’t playing either, and had elected to sit on the swings a little ways off. She was probably filming the chaos. At this point, Brooke wasn’t sure if she considered  _ everything _ potential blackmail material or if she was making some kind of digital scrapbook. Either way, Brooke would have to ask her to send it to her later for  _ her _ scrapbook. 

“Shut up, Rolan,” Michael said, now climbing up the playground stairs with his eyes closed and his arms out in front of him. “Tell me if I’m about to trip over a kid.” Everyone drifted away from Michael, pulling themselves closer to the outside of the playground. Lucky for them, Michael had picked a target. Jeremy, who was balanced precariously between a railing and a slide cover, was watching him with a smile. His tongue peeked out between his grinning teeth as Michael got steadily closer to him. Damn, Michael had good spatial memory. And Jeremy had horrible reflexes. In his preoccupation with staring at his friend—who admittedly had a very appealing expression which was half concentration and half mischievous grin—Jeremy didn’t realize he was about to be tagged until Michael was inches from him. 

“Shit,” Jeremy squeaked, swinging himself over the railing and darting out of Michael’s grasp. Scratch that. Great reflexes, just terrible concentration. Michael groaned. Jeremy giggled. 

Eventually, Michael managed to get Christine because she fell down a slide and he called out, “groundies” as she hit the rocks at the bottom. And then Christine tagged Michael back. 

And Michael tagged Chloe.

And Chloe tagged Michael.

Michael tagged Jake.

Jake tagged Michael.

Michael tagged Jeremy.

Jeremy tagged Michael. 

No one seemed to notice but Brooke and Michael, really, and as much as Brooke was actually really curious, Michael was getting fed up.

“Okay, whoever decided that fucking with me was the plan for this game can be it now. I think I’m done,” he said, crossing his arms. Jeremy was still standing next to him, having tagged him as he ran across the bridge to a slide. 

“Hey, dude. It’s okay. It’s just a game.”

“Just a game, Jeremy?” Michael’s laugh was bitter. “Yeah, it was just a game when we started, but you’re all cheating. There’s no way you  _ all _ tagged me.” 

“Michael, I swear we’re not.” Jeremy grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him to face him, staring him down. “Why would we?  _ Trust  _ me _. _ We all love you, dude. Why would we turn a stupid game against you?” Their faces were really close together now. Everyone else was silent, letting them have their  _ really _ tense moment. No one dared get this close to an upset Michael, almost like he was a hot pan and they were afraid of being burned. Even the children had given them wide berth by now. No one dared to get this close except Jeremy, whose blush Brooke could see from her crow’s nest seat across the playset, as well as the sincerity of his gaze. The serious, comforting calm on his face that he never had when it came to himself. Honestly, how those two _ hadn’t _ noticed those looks by now… 

Michael mumbled something about looking like an idiot. Jeremy laughed and shoved him, and Michael laughed too, a blush creeping up his face.

“We’re seniors in high school playing glorified tag. On a playground. We all look like idiots,” Jeremy said

“Ugh,  _ please _ stop saying I’m a senior. School’s only been out for a week. It makes me feel old,” Michael groaned, and the tension broke. Everyone swarmed him, trading apologies and pats on the back. Laughing like nothing had happened, which was nice. Brooke slid her way down to join them, smiling to herself at the way Michael was still looking at Jeremy. Gratitude or maybe something more. It was warm and soft. Those oblivious  _ idiots _ .

“It was really weird to watch,” Brooke said, and Michael raised his eyebrows at her. “Really! It was like you had a string attached to you or something. Everyone just found you. Naturally, like you were pulling them towards you. You must have your own gravitational field or something.” Something flickered across his eyes at that and his shoulders slumped a bit. He was closing himself off, nervous all of a sudden. He cast a look at Jeremy, who was sending one to Christine.

Michael quickly adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat, forcing himself to stand up straighter again. “First of all, that’s ridiculous. I’m sure it was just, like, creepy coincidence. I shouldn’t have gotten worked up. Second,” here he looked at her over his glasses and smirked, “everything has a gravitational field. That’s how gravity works. Didn’t you pay any attention in physics? I know Ms. Flemming is an awful teacher, but damn.”

“Must’ve been your natural irresistible charm, man.” Rich clapped his hand on Michael’s shoulder and the banter spread across the group again. 

Brooke watched as everyone packed up the remains of lunch and parted ways for home, like planets in their predetermined orbits. Like the Earth spinning steady beneath her feet. Constant as the sappy looks Jeremy and Michael kept giving each other whenever the other was looking away.


	4. Spoons and Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also known as:  
> 5 times Brooke notices weird things going on with Michael and Jeremy, and one time they stop trying to hide it from her.
> 
> Number 3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not be projecting theatre experiences into this chapter. Spoilers for The Miracle Worker ahead, if you weren't aware that a play about Helen Keller ends with her learning to talk.  
> Christine plays Kate Keller.  
> Sorry, Michael's not in this chapter, so there's no obvious pining or fluff this time. I know, I don't like it either.

“She'll live.”

“Thank God,” Christine breathed, the lights coming up on her place center stage. Brooke and Jeremy sat side by side in the audience. Everyone else had been invited to Christine's summer community theatre play too but they all had work or vacations or family plans that week, and Jeremy had needed a ride, otherwise Brooke probably wouldn't have gone either. Don't get her wrong, she loves Christine and is always up to support her, but she much prefers musicals to plays, especially when all Christine could really say about this one was that  _ it's about Helen Keller. _ Still, Jeremy insisted on going but also on not going alone, so here she was. It wasn't bad so far. Christine was doing a great job of now leaning over a crib and talking, apparently to baby Helen. If she was being totally honest, Brooke really wasn't getting into it yet. You always know how historical plays will end before they even start.

And now Christine was screaming. Brooke sensed Jeremy jump next to her as she shrieked for Captain Keller and they fought over whether or not the baby was still sick. Okay, so maybe she would enjoy this. 

The little girl playing Helen Keller was probably the most impressive. Brooke leaned over halfway through the next scene to ask Jeremy if he thought she was actually blind. She was, after all, groping around with this glazed, distant look in her eyes. 

“No, shut up,” Jeremy said, eyes fixed on the show. Christine was shifting very well between hysteria and consoling, wrestling a writhing, crying Helen into a hug on the rickety dining room chair on the first floor of the set, which was the skeleton of a house with a kitchen on the ground floor and a second-story bedroom. Brooke wasn’t sure she believed him, especially as the other blind girls showed up soon after and were a little less consistent. After ushering them offstage, the actress playing Annie Sullivan—who looked quite a bit like Brooke, actually—collapsed centerstage to sob into a spotlight about her dead brother, face slack. This was getting really good. 

And knowing Helen  _ probably  _ wasn’t  _ actually  _ blind didn’t stop Brooke from tensing when Annie brought her to the upstairs room in the next scene. It was kinda high, and didn’t have any front railing. And they were wrestling up there. Damn, Brooke had never realized just how intense theatre could be sometimes. She really should’ve, but maybe Mr. Reyes just wasn’t all that good at motivating them to be brave about it or something.

During act two, or what the program said was act two (there weren’t really scene changes, just lighting shifts, and there wasn’t an intermission until between acts two and three), Brooke lost focus. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested anymore. She was. Everything going on was really cool, from the fingerspelling to the breakfast fight; they were really fighting up there, and as much as she knew it must’ve been choreographed, it was intense. She also had a sneaking suspicion that Annie might’ve stabbed Helen in the throat with a spoon, but it was hard to tell from a distance. No, she was just distracted. There was a light in the corner of her eye, kind of like when you’re wearing sunglasses and the sun is at just the right angle that you’re seeing a reflection of your face in the lens. She ignored it, but it definitely made her wish Jeremy would put his phone away. Who would be rude enough to text during their friend’s show?

She confronted him about it during intermission, after Annie fell asleep singing a lullaby to Helen. Or maybe to herself, considering Helen couldn’t hear it. Whatever. 

“Jeremy, were you seriously texting during that?”

“What? No? Why would I ever do that? I’m not an asshole.” He glared at her.

“What, filming it then? I could’ve sworn I saw the light of your phone.” 

Jeremy bit his lip, glancing down. “I wasn’t on my phone,” he said. “Even if I wanted to film it, I wouldn’t. I can’t enjoy watching if I’m thinking about making a bootleg, and Christine would go ballistic, you know her.”

“Then what was that light?” Brooke wasn’t mad. She wasn’t even accusing him anymore. Her mind was racing with what this could mean. If it wasn’t his phone, then  _ Jeremy _ must’ve been, well…

“I didn’t see any light. Can, um… can we just talk about the show? Do you like it so far? I like it. Helen’s adorable and really convincing at being blind and deaf. The guy playing James is like, really angsty, which I guess is good. I’m pretty sure he’s also doing the voice of Jimmy? I like that. He’s good at that too. The girl playing Annie is doing a great job. Her bio says this is the first big role she’s gotten in anything and she doesn’t know how she did, but she’s such a natural up there, and she and Helen and she and Christine have great chemistry and Christine is such a star. She makes a great fake mom, I mean…” Jeremy wouldn't make eye contact. Brooke had stopped listening as he rambled. The show, as amazing as it was, was not what she cared the most about anymore.

Jeremy must’ve been glowing. Or shining, or whatever. If Jeremy could glow in the dark and Michael had freaky gravity, then… 

The lights faded again, starting up act three, where family connections happened between Christine’s character and James, who also finally stood up to the Captain, and Annie got over being afraid to get attached to people, and Helen finally talked, “wah-wah” echoing in an auditorium holding its breath after she dropped a pitcher clattering to the stage. It was heartfelt and encouraging and very, very good. Amidst the rousing applause of curtain call, Brooke came back to reality and pieced a few things together.

Christine was such a star, maybe in more ways than one, Michael was the center of his own little universe, and Jeremy must’ve been glowing. 

That pile of old books from Social Studies was still sitting on the desk in her room, staring her in the face like the stupid idea of the quartz crystal under her pillow. 

_ But I started thinking that it would be really cool to know a god and not know you knew. _

Well now she knew. Or, at least she thought. She knew to think more about it, because they weren’t about to just come out and tell her, even though Jeremy was  _ definitely _ glowing. 

They found Christine in the theatre lobby afterwards, standing around as she took a million pictures with Helen (who was neither blind nor deaf, and had indeed had a spoon shoved into the back of her mouth) and Annie (who kept apologizing profusely for forcing her to deep throat silverware) and the rest of the cast. After a million hugs and congratulations and after Christine had changed, they all walked out into the summer evening air, moon and stars shining down on them. Moon and stars that Brooke thought, were perhaps, much closer than they looked. 


	5. Sunburns and Screenshots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also known as:  
> 5 times Brooke notices weird things going on with Michael and Jeremy, and one time they stop trying to hide it from her.
> 
> Number 4.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. It's been a while. Have a long chapter to hopefully make up for it?

It would’ve been so nice to say the sun was bright and shining in a sapphire sky as Brooke pulled into Chloe’s driveway, sunglasses on her head, coconut-scented sunscreen perfuming the car, and skin warmed by the glaring heat, urging her forward to the pool party that was going to be the talk of the summer. The dark, rumbling clouds overhead kind of killed the picture, though. Chloe had refused to call off the party, mostly at Michael’s insistence that weather reports were bullshit anyway. Still, Brooke had to fight down a shiver as she parked the car and grabbed her overflowing tote bag. A swimsuit and cover-up sundress were not enough to keep out the chill wind of the oncoming storm.

Cold or not, the party was firing up when she walked in. Party was a strong term. It was pretty much just their group. That was the thing about summer. It was hard enough (read: nigh impossible, yet another reason they were not taking a rain-check) to find time for the eight of them to get together, much less a full crowd of acquaintances, and this was way less high-maintenance anyway. Besides, Chloe’s pool really wasn’t that big and her parents had buckled down on supervision since Jake’s last Halloween party had ended up on the news (Rich toppled a jack-o-lantern and caught the drapes—and subsequently, the house—on fire). Smaller was better.

Smaller was also the only way Michael would’ve come, and Jeremy wasn’t about to show up without him. Which was probably for the best. Everyone knew neither of them liked being around other people for too long without each other, even if they both denied it. And while yes, Brooke knew it was probably creepy and obsessive and obnoxious, she kinda sorta really wanted to keep an eye on the two of them. Would anything actually come from revealing them? Probably not, and if it did, it would likely either make them mad at her—which could be really bad if they had any really powerful godly stuff going on (she wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of being smote. Smitten? Smited? Ugh, they all sounded so _horrible._ Whatever. Not a nice idea or a nice word)—or maybe make them have to leave Earth, which was hardly fair. She wasn’t keen on ruining her friendships, but she was convinced she was right, and once she got an idea like that in her head… Well. She couldn’t really let it rest no matter how much she tried. Yes, of course she could keep a secret. She just didn’t like it when other people kept them from _her,_ especially when they were so cool and so obvious.

Brooke really couldn’t help it.

Which might’ve been why Jenna was the first person she tracked down at the party. Hey, you couldn’t blame her for wanting to know more. What if she was wrong and Jeremy and Michael were just weirdos? No harm done. What if she was right and they were totally cool with it? Well then, it was their fault for not telling her sooner. And if she was right and they were vindictive or on the run or something? She would either save the world from wrathful gods who looked like nerdy high schoolers (really, the very _thought._ What first made her think these two losers were deities, again?) or be able to help protect them from whatever heavenly judgement they were facing. Basically, her imagination was in overdrive of every possible outcome because that was what happened when she got invested in things. Sorry.

The nerds weren’t giving her anything to work with. But, despite appearances, she _was_ absolutely positive. Michael and Jeremy were the Sun and Moon, come to Earth to be together. It was adorable, really, if they’d just admit it. To her and to each other. And Christine was probably a star. That too.

She _knew_ it. She also, however, knew her own limits. Brooke could be as observant as she wanted, but she was no detective, and she was no conspiracy theorist. Okay, she was, but the point was that she didn’t want to be, so she wasn’t about to try spreading half-baked connections she half-made up. She needed _proof._ She needed someone who had eyes and ears everywhere. Who had a memory for whispered rumors and sneaking glances.

Which brought her back to Jenna.

Brooke found her sitting cross-legged in a lawn chair on the porch, nursing a solo cup of lemonade (Chloe’s parents had absolutely forbidden alcohol, but everyone knew Rich or Jake would spike whatever they could get their hands on, to the point where Brooke almost expected them to dump a flask into the pool water) and staring at her phone over the top of the sunglasses she couldn’t have possibly needed in the shelter of the blackening rainclouds.

“Hey, Jenna?”

“Brooke! Hey. How have you been?”

“Good, I’m good,” Brooke said, sitting across from Jenna on the wicker chair. Now, shit. How the hell was she supposed to bring this up? Jenna was nice, but calling her brutally honest would probably be an understatement. If she thought Brooke was off her rocker—which she was _not—_ she’d say it.

“Let me guess. You want my help.” Jenna smirked over her lemonade. Brooke shot her a nervous smile.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Brooke, honey, everyone wants my help with something. Soooooo…”

Brooke sighed, smoothing out her sundress. Laughter rang around them as the guys finally decided to put the pool to use. Michael rushed by, shoving his glasses into Brooke’s hands. “‘Sup guys, can you hold these? Gotta go dunk Jeremy. Thanks, sorry,” he said, not waiting for a response before he cannonballed into the water that must’ve been freezing. Boys were _weird._

Brooke fiddled with the plastic frames, trying to ignore the playful shouts coming from the water. They made a knot of guilt settle in between her ribs. Of course she had to be so stuck in her own head that she couldn’t have normal fun with them. “It’s Michael and Jeremy.”

Jenna snorted. “If you want to know when they’re finally gonna grow some balls and confess, I can’t help you. All of my sources say they’re smitten, _mutually,_ but they can’t see it.”

Smitten. There was that word again. Brooke let herself laugh. This was supposed to be a party, and the storm clouds thinning out and drifting away to a soundtrack of splashing and giggling burned away her worries like a layer of mist.

“No, like. Yeah, that, obviously, but I was more wondering if you knew of anything weird going on with them?” she asked through her giggles.

“Besides the perpetual heart eyes?”

“Those aren’t weird.” Brooke rolled her eyes. “It would be weirder if they weren’t doing that.”

“True.” Jenna was laughing now too. “So what kind of weird stuff were you talking about?”

“Okay, first off, hear me out.” Brooke’s giddiness faded. “I know I’m going to sound insane.”

“That is never a good way to start a conversation.”

Brooke took a deep breath. The sun was fully out now, beating down on her shoulders. Was Michael looking at her? Did he know what she was about to do? Was he on to her being on to him? Was he going to burn her to a crisp for not minding her own business? Did it even work that way? Could he actually see everything under the sun? Was he about to strike her down for every little thing she’d ever possibly done to piss him off? Was this just the last straw?

No, wait. That splashing was him wrestling Jeremy underwater again.

 _Holy shit._ She _was_ insane. Paranoid over some fucking _sunshine_ like some tinfoil-hat-wearing nutcase.

“Look,” Brooke swallowed and forced her voice to stay light. “You remember that old religion I was telling you about? The one I did my history final on?”

“Of course I do,” Jenna said, brow furrowed in what Brooke prayed was intrigue and not an attempt to diagnose her with three different kinds of psychosis.

“The two main gods were the Sun and the Moon, who often took human form on Earth for various reasons, depending on the story.”

“Yeah, you told me this part already.”

“Right.” Brooke’s fingers fumbled around Michael’s glasses again. Why would a god wear glasses? Why would he let himself have a body without perfect vision? It seemed like the sort of thing that shouldn’t be too hard. Ugh. Since when did she get _this_ nervous and obsessive over dumb things like this? Being friends with Jeremy and Christine must’ve been rubbing off on her. “Does it sound batshit crazy if I say that I may or may not believe in these old myths?”

“I mean, to each their own,” Jenna said, looking into the distance behind Brooke, jaw clenched. Brooke bit her lip. Was that a good sign? Or a bad one? Jenna was known for making limited eye contact. She didn’t like missing anything that was going on. “What does this have to do with the resident geeks?”

Brooke pressed her teeth further into her lip. Now or never. “Does it sound even crazier if I say I think Jeremy and Michael are the current incarnations?” Jenna raised an eyebrow at this, but still didn’t look at her. As unnerving as it was, Brooke’s heart wasn’t beating nearly as quickly as it would’ve if Jenna had elected to stare at her instead. The guys’ commotion must’ve been really juicy. Again, she had a sneaking suspicion Jenna was compiling an encyclopedia of blackmail material on everyone she knew.

“Jeremy is way too pale to be a sun god, are you kidding?” Brooke blinked. It wasn’t mockery. There were some people for whom it was hard to tell. Chloe’s banter, for instance, was eighty-percent insults. But Jenna wasn’t making fun of her. She was barely even being sarcastic.

“No, Michael’s the Sun. Jeremy’s the Moon. And I’m pretty sure Christine might be a star.” Jenna didn’t respond, somehow still really intent on the pool. At this point, Brooke was afraid to look. It still just sounded like a friendly water fight, but from all Jenna’s expression told her, the boys could very well have been slaughtering each other. “You don’t think I’m paranoid? You don’t think I’ve gone completely mad?”

“Any other time, I would, but I’m assuming your celestial gods would have some kind of powers, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Turn around. Your Man in the Moon is messing with the tides.”

Brooke nearly got whiplash whirling around, and even then she had to scrabble her hair out of her face to actually see what was going on.

The pool had turned into a raging hurricane. Okay, not really, but the water was far from still. It rocked back and forth, choppy and foaming. None of the boys noticed. Jeremy himself probably had no clue, but every time he made to splash someone, half the pool followed suit. Michael was struggling against the current to dunk him under again, but to no avail. Jake and Rich were cheering him on, red-faced and coughing on inhaled water, hair dripping. The tile along the sides of the pool had been flooded with massive puddles, still rippling towards Jeremy, who was the only one standing calm and still in the rapids.

And no one else had noticed. The boys were too busy drowning each other, and Christine and Chloe had disappeared inside the house, still searching for the decade-old water balloons they’d been on the hunt for since Brooke arrived.

She glanced back at Jenna. She had a knack for warping her face into four different expressions at once. Smug, scheming, fascinated, and completely stunned all flickered across her features.

“So,” she said, “you need me to help you get proof.”

“Would you mind?”

“Sweetie, I would be getting it if you wanted it or not, because this is fucking brilliant. _I_ need to know more.” Jenna grinned. “Now go have fun. This is a party, after all.” Brooke beamed. She left Michael’s glasses and her cover-up sundress under Jenna’s supervision. She’d gone back to her boozy lemonade and phone, now with a goal to her research.

And, perched on the edge of a calmer pool (Michael had finally reached Jeremy and had his arms pinned, pulling both of them under the water, which stilled when Jeremy did), Brooke watched as the Sun and Moon got just a little closer together than they had to. A little closer than most friends would, but exactly as close as friends (and potential lovers) of multiple lifetimes would. They were both laughing and blushing and struggling for air, and Brooke found herself not caring if she was right or not. They were the sun and moon in each other’s eyes, if nothing else.

Hey, she could be a conspiracy theorist _and_ a shipper.

 

* * *

 

 **Message from Jenna Rolan** : _I didn’t find much in the way of concrete evidence yet, but I’ve got this. Pay attention to the last one. It was from the group chat about ten minutes ago, and I know you have it muted._

Brooke scrolled through the stream of screenshots Jenna sent. They were from months of text conversations and Instagram posts and other remnants in the depths of Jenna’s phone storage. She’d even included a clip from the video she’d taken at their park picnic, where Michael sucked ass at groundies.

There were Jeremy’s English notes—sent for a day Jenna had been absent—with crescent moons and bunny rabbits and little wolves doodled in the margins. There was Michael and Christine’s physics project—shared digitally so the whole class had access—on the shape of planetary orbits and with particularly specific memes on the title slides. There were several moments of group chat banter, with inside joking insults ranging from obscure to bizzare (until Jenna pointed out in overlaid text their relevance to Selene and Helios and Ra and a whole list of other sun and moon deities). There was a mirror selfie—stolen from Christine’s Facebook and probably taken at her last birthday party—where Jenna had circled Christine’s earrings, a particular patch on Michael’s hoodie, and the popsocket on Jeremy’s phone, which was in clear view where he held it to take the picture.

And on. And on. And on.

Brooke was stunned. In a few hours, Jenna had managed to dig up more than she would notice in a year.

The last group chat conversation started with Rich complaining about a bad sunburn, soon followed by everyone else (except Michael, of course, and Christine, who had spent most of her time in the shade). Brooke was nursing stinging red skin of her own, too. Then there was Jeremy, New Jersey’s palest non-vampire, who hadn’t even turned pink. Still white as porcelain, which Michael was quick to tease him about, and without the common sense to even lie and say he’d tripled up on the SPF or something.

 **Jenna Rolan:** _Also, I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but the sun didn’t come out until Michael showed up, and the thunderstorm started as soon as the party was over._

Which was true. Brooke hadn’t noticed the first part, too stuck in her own anticipation of finding an ally, but when the sky turned into a dark, rumbling, sparking mass and poured icy hail on them the second they (Michael) vacated the pool, and when every weather report around said that it was a miserable day all over town, well. The downpour was still going even hours later into the middle of the night, rattling the shutters and making Brooke wish her bed wasn’t right by the window.

 **Brookie:** _Thank you so much! I knew I could count on you!_

 **Jenna Rolan:** _Not sure what you plan to do with this. Just don’t let them smite you for exposing them._

 **Jenna Rolan:** _And I’ll keep an eye out for more._

 **Brookie:** _I’ll be careful, I promise. I don’t want to ruin anything for them either._

 **Brookie:** _Oh, by the way…_

 **Brookie:** _What’s the past tense of smite?_

 **Jenna Rolan:** _Smote._

 **Jenna Rolan:** _Why? What else would it be?_

 **Brookie:** _It’s just such an ugly word. Idk._

 **Jenna Rolan:** _Go to sleep._

 **Brookie:** _I’m just saying!_

**Jenna Rolan set your nickname to Smote.**

**Smote:** _JENNA!_


	6. Coffee and CMEs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also known as:  
> 5 times Brooke notices weird things going on with Michael and Jeremy, and one time they stop trying to hide it from her.
> 
> Number 5.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanking Wikipedia and NASA for the tiny bit of science-y stuff in this chapter.  
> Also, back to Jeremy pov and hopefully something fluffier.  
> This is my first time attempting to write a sickfic, so please bear with me.

 

It wasn’t like Michael to duck out on plans, and it  _ really _ wasn’t like him to do so because he was sick. Oh, sure, if he really just didn’t want to hang out, he might use it as an excuse so people would leave him alone, but Jeremy knew better. 

The Sun can’t get sick. 

And, really, things would probably go to absolute shit on Earth if he did.

He didn’t ever lie to Jeremy about it, maybe because he knew he wouldn’t fool him. After all, he and Christine couldn’t get sick either, though that didn’t stop them from having really garbage days every few weeks, Christine because she got stuck in a body with a uterus and Jeremy because he got super thrown off at the new moon. Hey, when you have this weird spiritual link to a floating orb in the sky because you’re kind of in two places at once, you tend to feel really shitty when it vanishes. It’s like suddenly being unable to see yourself in the mirror, plus feeling tired and achy and lightheaded. Just overall uncomfortable and weird.

So, when Michael texted the group chat that he couldn’t meet up for coffee like they’d planned because he was nauseous and  _ didn’t _ text Jeremy separately to confirm that he just wasn’t up for social interaction, Jeremy went cold. 

Jeremy went cold, but he couldn’t do anything about it. Michael wasn’t replying to his texts. If he really was sick, he might’ve been asleep. That was fine. It’d be okay. He could sleep it off and be perfectly fine in a couple hours. The sun in the sky was still shining bright like normal, so it wasn’t anything universe-destroyingly-bad, at least. 

The coffee date went as well as anyone could expect with a worried Jeremy in a claustrophobic public space with the insanities he called friends. Rich was starting to bounce off the walls. Jake and Chloe kept buying him coffees and convincing him to not only keep drinking when his eyeballs were buzzing, but to chug every single one. He was on his third latte in as many minutes, and Jeremy was starting to expect him to spontaneously combust. Christine was calm. Eerily so. She was still and staring, looking around with incredible intent. If Jeremy didn’t know that it was also the fault of caffeine—it usually calms down people with ADD, according to an internet documentary he and Michael watched—he might think she was possessed.  

And then there were Brooke and Jenna. There was nothing wrong with them. No reason for Jeremy to be freaking out, except that  _ they _ were freaking out. Around him. About him. And they wouldn’t tell him  _ what the fuck  _ was going on. They had just been looking at him and at Michael and whispering and giggling for weeks now. And they kept doing it. If it didn’t make him so nervous, he might be offended. They sat off at the other end of their cafe table, whispering over their drinks and casting him odd looks. 

“So, Jeremy, any clue what’s up with Michael?” Brooke eventually asked over the commotion of Rich choking on his fifth concoction of syrups and cream and espresso.

“He said he was sick.”

“Well yeah, we all knew that.” Jenna rolled her eyes. “We wanted to know if he told you anything else in detail. You know, as his best friend.”

“N-no, sorry.” Jeremy cast a look to Christine, who was staring intently at Jenna and Brooke and had been for some time. They didn’t seem to notice or mind. There were gears turning behind her eyes, slower than usual, but also more streamlined. She was finally piecing things together. Things Jeremy didn’t want to think about.

The lights in the cafe flickered out of nowhere. Everyone looked around. 

“Oh, yeah, I heard something about really bad solar flares going on today. Messing up power grids and GPS signals,” Chloe said, eyeing the ceiling. Jeremy and Christine shared a look, just as Brooke and Jenna did. 

“That explains why Siri tried to send me to the Home Depot across the street on the way here,” Rich said, lisp spraying coffee-scented spit across the table as he talked too quickly. 

“I should go check on Michael.”

“You should go check on Michael.” 

Jeremy and Jenna spoke in unison, and he flinched. Shit. If Jenna knew that solar flares would make Jeremy want to check on his friend—he winced internally at the word, which had been happening a lot more lately,  _ shit _ —she had to know… No. There was no way. The only person who even knew to think about it was… 

Brooke.

Brooke, who was smiling oh so innocently over her iced tea. 

Brooke, who had read all those books and caught them being careless because they never had to worry about anyone noticing or caring before.

Brooke, who had been talking to Jenna  _ a lot _ lately.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

“No, no,” Jeremy stuttered out, standing so fast his chair tipped back and screeched on the floor as he fumbled to steady it. “I’m, I’m sure, I’m sure it’s, it’s perfectly fine. No reason for him to be, like, more sick than usual. Just sick. He doesn’t like having people around when he feels gross anyway. I mean… Like… I  _ could  _ go check on him. He’s probably fine, though. He wouldn’t want to bug us anyway…Um… Yeah… I’m sure he’s, um…” 

Jeremy’s voice faded and he stood frozen, staring at Christine, doing everything he could to communicate with his eyes. Normally, there’s no way it would’ve worked. Normally, she would’ve moved on with the impossible stream of her train of thought. But she wasn’t normally on caffeine, and now she looked back with resolve.

“Go check on him,” she said.

* * *

 

As Jeremy wandered down the stairs to Michael’s bedroom, he was struck with just how long it had been since they had actually hung out. Compared to their usual routine of spending their entire summer in Michael’s basement, barely aware of what day it was, or even if it  _ was _ day, they hadn’t seen each other at all. It was all traveling for college tours or a family trip or having company over or Jeremy’s dad finally realizing that he was running out of time to do all of the father-son bonding stuff, which left Jeremy on many more spontaneous day trips than he would ever want to go on. They only ever seemed to hang out with everyone else.

What if Michael wasn’t sick? What if the person he’d wanted to avoid was Jeremy? What if he had gotten so used to being so busy that he didn’t want to be around Jeremy because it would be too awkward? Or what if he’d finally realized what he should’ve centuries ago: that being friends with the Moon—the stupid, insignificant moon that people knew for being flaky and inconstant and actually really boring up close—was a waste of time and energy? Especially for  _ him. _ For Michael, who was so perfect. Warm and bright and life-giving. Hell, the Aztecs and Mayans  _ killed _ people for him. A lot. It was fucked up, and Michael complained about it even at the time, but, like, they  _ cared. _ Because he was too good for them. And for Jeremy. 

_ No.  _

_ You are not allowed to think that.  _

_ We’ve been over this. If Michael didn’t like you, he would’ve dumped you back in Greece. And you couldn’t possibly be harder to deal with than you were then, if the continued furry jokes are anything to go by.  _

Damn, reincarnation was weird. Like, yeah, they were always the same people. Always the Sun and Moon. Always Michael and Jeremy. Okay, not quite. Their names did change. But they were always themselves. Sometimes they were personified as gods. Which they kind of were technically, but not really, because there was no way someone who was actually, legitimately divine would do most of the shit they did. Gods didn’t pull all-nighters with sugar highs (and actual highs) and fake cheese in their bloodstreams just so they could try to beat their own speed run times in games that came out decades ago. Most of their lives were spent like this. Just normal people. Okay, mostly normal. Trying to blend in and just see what it was like. Because yeah, orbit was kinda lame. Kinda really lame. 

And this was the only way they could see each other up close. 

They weren’t always friends. Sometimes—like in Greece—they’d ended up siblings. Sometimes they’d be parent and child. Sometimes lovers. Jeremy tried not to focus too hard on those times. Mostly because Michael didn’t. Michael didn’t care how they were connected. He said it only mattered that they were. Which, yeah. Sure. Jeremy would never want to be stuck on Earth  _ without _ his player one, but it was… different. Or something. Basically, he’d spent centuries hiding from Michael. From himself. From the fact that no matter how they showed up on this marble, the part of him that was still attached to some primordial being in the sky was absolutely hopeless. Hopelessly staring after a ball of fire that he could never stay close enough to. 

He was in love with the Sun. 

And it terrified him. Michael was the only person he’d ever had. The only person he’d always have. He wasn’t about to throw it away over some dumb cosmic crush that Michael only seemed to reciprocate some of the time. The prince might’ve loved the knight. The peasant boy might’ve loved the shepherd. Michael might’ve loved Jeremy for all he could tell.

But the Sun didn’t love the Moon. Not in the same way the Moon loved him.

And he never would. But that didn’t stop Jeremy’s heart or soul or whatever it was called from hoping. From aching. 

He was just worried that if he stared at the Sun for too long, he’d go blind. He’d burn up.

That didn’t stop him from going down the stairs as quietly as possible and peeking around the corner slowly, like he hadn’t spent most of this lifetime in Michael’s basement. 

“It’s about time, dumbass.” Michael was staring at him. Glaring at him. Sitting on his bed with his arms crossed and his eyes searing holes into Jeremy’s. His heart stopped for a moment. His breath hitched. Suddenly, he understood why people slashed throats and tore out hearts and spilled blood to appease this guy. He wanted to run to any scrap of shade to escape the furious rays of the look Michael was giving him. “You couldn’t drop one playdate to come comfort a dying friend?”

“Y-you’re not—? Oh, holy fucking shit, please tell me you’re not dying.”

“Might as well be, suffering here all alone. What gives, Jer? Have you been avoiding me on purpose or something?”

“What!? No, no I swear I haven’t! I just—”

Michael laughed, the fire in his eyes dissolving into something soft and warm, and Jeremy let himself breathe again. “Dude, I’m kidding. I get it. It’s not like I asked you to come over.” He stood and engulfed Jeremy in a hug. “I’m glad you did, though.” 

Jeremy melted into Michael’s embrace, trying not to get too distracted by his breath on his neck or the way his hair tickled against his face or the gentle trace of his fingers against his spine. Instead, he focused on the heat of Michael’s skin. “Michael, you’re burning up.”

“Pretty sure I have been for a few billion years. That’s kinda the deal with being the fucking sun.” He pulled away, holding Jeremy—who forced himself to not lean into his retreating arms—by the shoulders and smirking. Michael was having a staring contest with Jeremy again. His eyes burned like sunlight through a magnifying glass, with Jeremy as the poor ants being burned alive. He couldn’t say he disliked it, though. “Or were you just saying you think I’m hot?” 

“Dude!” Jeremy shoved Michael away, face aflame. 

Michael cackled. “You know you glow when you blush?” He kept laughing, before it turned into a hacking cough. He groaned.

“I was saying,” Jeremy said, embarrassment quelled by worry at the wheezing noises Michael made, “that you’ve got one hell of a fever.”

“Ugh, I know,” Michael groaned, flopping back down on his bed. “It’s the stupid CMEs again.”

“The, the what?” 

“Okay, like.” Michael sat up, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “Remember that one time in like, the mid-eighteen hundreds when I was totally out of commission for a few days because I guess my subconscious decided to shoot huge-ass amounts of radiation out into space?”

“Are you talking about the Carrington Event?” Jeremy perched on the edge of the bed next to him.

“Oh, so you remember the name of a thing from a hundred and fifty years ago, but not why it actually happened.” 

“I remember being terrified you were gonna bite the dust while everyone else was trying to convince me to leave you to go look at the northern lights that you were making. With your vomit, I guess? What exactly does a solar flare do to you?”

“Fuck if I know. I haven’t blown chunks yet this time, at least. Mostly I just feel like I wanna die,” Michael groaned. 

“Okay, lay down. Take off the hoodie, too. Overheating won’t do you any good.” 

Michael just raised his eyebrows at Jeremy’s orders. “What are you, my mom? I’m fine. And I can’t overheat. I’m the fucking sun, remember?” 

Jeremy shoved him down. “Yeah, the fucking sun in a human body. Shut your face and stay here. I’m going to go get you medicine and soup and shit.”

“No, Jer, I can manage. I’m fine, I swear.” Michael stood and wobbled. His eyes crossed. “Woah. Okay, maybe I am sick.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Good thing I came over. Sit your ass down.”

“Fuck you, Watson,” Michael retorted, stumbling towards the stairs. His eyes were glazed. His face had gone gray, its usual golden glow faded as he paled. “I’m  _ fine. _ ” 

Jeremy had to admit that Michael’s stubbornness was endearing. His cheeks were ashy, but his nose and lips had flushed. His eyes were glittering with runny tears that fell unbidden and unnoticed down his hot cheeks. He looked like shit, but he’d never looked so innocent. So pathetic. Pathetic in the good way where Jeremy just wanted to scoop him up and hold him.

Jeremy forced his eyes away. Forced himself not to stare at his friend. Forced himself not to enjoy this too much. He couldn't hope to figure out why, but caring for Michael warmed something in his chest. But no. No. Michael was sick.  _ Make him feel better. Don’t focus too much on him needing you.  _

Jeremy was snapped out of his thoughts—out of staring at how Michael’s hair fell lank against his forehead and how his breath fogged his glasses and how his limbs were trembling under his weight—when Michael’s knees gave out. When he went limp as a sack of rocks and crumpled to the ground, barely four steps from his bed. 

* * *

 

Michael was finally lucid hours later. Dusk had fallen over the basement, with only the low glow of Michael’s laptop—opened up by Jeremy to watch NASA for space weather reports and YouTube for a Let’s Play or two to pass the time—flickering light over the room. Jeremy had stripped Michael of his hoodie and glasses, loaded him in bed, and force-fed him some fever reducers and water and a can of soup. What? Like he’d try to make soup from scratch? He was a part-time god, not a miracle worker. Or a chef. With nothing better to do, Jeremy had clambered under the covers next to the sleeping Sun. He’d tried to focus on the computer. He really had. He just might’ve been distracted now and then by Michael’s soft skin and the pillowy curve of his lips and how dark and full his eyelashes were when not hidden behind thick glasses frames. He caught himself petting Michael’s curls and smiling to himself as Michael leaned into his weaving fingers with a sleepy hum. He caught himself, but didn’t stop himself, too focused on his slow relief when Michael’s forehead went from radiating fever heat back to his normal sunshiney warmth.

Michael groaned and blinked his eyes open. “What day is it?”

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Jeremy said. 

“Mm… Hey.”

“Hey.” Jeremy expected his heart to be going crazy. He expected his breath to catch and a blush to work its way up his cheeks. Instead, the warmth of Michael’s smile, the softness of his gaze, and the low rumble of his voice washed over him. They washed over him like the first rays of dawn, the dying light of sunset. Michael looked at him with something rich and hot in his face, and it seeped to Jeremy’s core. He was more at home than he had been in ages.

“Thanks. I—”

“No problem. I hope you don’t mind, well,” Jeremy gestured vaguely to their limbs tied together.  

Michael smiled, his eyes half-open, and Jeremy’s insides melted. “Please stay. You’re nice. This feels nice.” 

“Yeah. No problem.” Jeremy was starting to doze off himself. Michael’s ear was up against his heartbeat. Their breaths rose and fell together. He wouldn’t want to move if it were the end of the world. “I, uh… I remembered you got really bad fever nightmares last time, so I thought I’d just stay with you to make sure you didn’t.”

Michael chuckled, drifting back towards sleep. “Yeah, chase the big bad shadow monsters away, Moon Man.”

“You’re a dork,” Jeremy murmured as sleep descended on them like a sheet. His fingers were carding through Michael’s hair slower now.

Michael hummed to himself, mumbling out a final, “Love you.”

Jeremy smiled, heart and head too filled with the wafting clouds of dreamland to let those words do anything but soothe him further. “Love you too, man.”

And with that, Jeremy willed their dreams into something soft and sweet and bright with the light of each other and they both, still wrapped together, fell into the embrace of sleep.


	7. The Last Day of Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also known as:  
> 5 times Brooke notices weird things going on with Michael and Jeremy, and one time they stop trying to hide it from her.
> 
> Finally, +1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, warning, Super Mario Odyssey spoilers. 
> 
> Also, Greek mythology and Pokemon references, because I'm a nerd and they fit. Also, a reference to an actual class I've taken, because I think the boyfs would love it. 
> 
> This is like all fluff and Jeremy's internal freakout. 
> 
> And yes, I know that the sun is 93 million miles from the earth and therefore the moon. I rounded up for simplicity's sake.

It was the end of the fucking world.

Maybe Jeremy was exaggerating a little, but that’s what it felt like. Why the fucking hell had he thought he could do this?

He was going to die. It wouldn’t be the first time, but this felt worse. He was going to fall out of the sky at this point. Whoops! There goes the moon. There go the tides and all the other little things he keeps in check. The werewolves might riot. 

All because he decided to be a fucking optimistic idiot, promise himself he was going to do this, and then actually make plans which forced him to  _ follow through _ . 

What he wouldn’t give for an actual apocalypse right now.

He felt like he was being blown to bits, ripped apart by some possessed, fire-breathing dinosaur in his core and falling to smash into the Earth. Yeah, weird metaphor, but he and Michael had finished Mario Odyssey recently, and the jokes about how weird it would feel to be destroyed from the inside by Mario in Bowser’s body (and Michael’s insistence that Jeremy would probably be into it) had gotten stuck in his head.

Why the fuck had he sent that text to Christine? 

**Jeremoon:** _ I’m gonna tell him. _

It hadn’t taken more context than that. Christine had known about his crippling crush longer than he had. It’s why she broke up with him five lifetimes ago. 

“You’re a great guy, Jeremy,” she’d said (but like, with whatever name he’d had at the time), “but you don’t love me like that. Oh, shut it, I know you don’t. Out of millions of billions of stars, there are better ones out there than me. And I’d say there’s one who’s had his eye on you too, if you’d only bother to pay attention.”

And Jeremy, naturally, had gone red and started stuttering and denying it. Avoiding the feelings like the plague. 

But now she was making him confront the issue.

**Let Me Be Your Star:** _ AAH! I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!!!!!!! _

**Let Me Be Your Star:** _ You’d better not back out this time.  _

**Let Me Be Your Star:** _ Hey, my family is doing an end of the summer bbq. I’m gonna invite everyone and you HAVE to come. If you haven’t told him by then, I’m gonna get Jake to lock you two in a closet until you do. _

**Let Me Be Your Star:** _ Or something.  _

**Let Me Be Your Star:** _ Idk. _

**Let Me Be Your Star:** _ I’ll figure it out. _

**Let Me Be Your Star:** _ But why are you still listening to me ramble? I can see you’re reading these. GO TELL HIM. _

**Let Me Be Your Star:** _ Break a leg!  _

Jeremy hadn’t told him. He’d tried. He’d thought it all out. Had the perfect plan to do it the next time they hung out, which was happening a lot more now that both of them were done with family trips. Just in Michael’s basement. It would be so easy to say something simple and it’s not like Michael would hate him for it. Maybe he’d be awkward. Try to laugh it off. It wouldn’t matter. He’d forget in a hundred years or so. A drop in the bucket. And yeah, Jeremy would be crushed, but it’s not like he’d stop seeing him. They were kinda stuck together for eternity. Package deal.

But the hangout passed. And so did another. And another. They had sleepovers and smoked, but no high, from sleep deprivation or weed or  _ whatever _ , could calm Jeremy’s nerves enough to get the words out. There went senior year orientation. They’d gotten the lockers neither one of them would use and compared their schedules (the nice thing about senior year is that you’re pretty much done with your credits, so they could pick classes that actually interested them and that they knew they’d both be in, like Sci-Fi second semester with Jeremy’s tenth grade English teacher where everyone said you pretty much just watched  _ 2001  _ and  _ Blade Runner _ half the time). They’d done senior pictures in an old abandoned warehouse to look like they were fighting in some post-apocalyptic wasteland situation. They’d gone school supply shopping together. They were connected at the hip again after two months of limited contact, which was two months too many. 

And yet, Jeremy hadn’t told him. He’d tried, he really had. It’s just that every time he opened his mouth to say it, he gagged on the words. He couldn’t force his voice, because bile burned in his throat every time he tried. It seemed his body would rather turn itself inside out than spit out the words he’d been burning to say for centuries. Rather destroy him before he had even the slightest chance to destroy himself. 

But now, it was the last day of summer, and he and Michael were sitting on Christine’s front lawn. Why her family had decided to make this a lunch barbecue was beyond him. It was bright and hot and Jeremy felt awful. He blamed Michael, really. For the heat and for the dread boiling in his gut. 

The noontime sky was oppressively blue and misted with grill smoke. The smell of cooking meat wafted through the air, which, as mouth-watering as it was, was not helping Jeremy’s growing nausea. Children ran about, dripping popsicle slime over their chalk scribbles and water balloon debris. Rich and Jenna stood by the drink coolers of soda, chatting away and quite possibly planning some way to dump the ice out on someone. Chloe had somehow gotten roped into helping Christine’s mom with the food. She stood over a watermelon with a ginormous knife and loose strands of hair from her ponytail falling into her eyes, her look of intense focus just a little too much like an executioner’s. Jeremy was extremely grateful that the watermelon was not his head. Christine had cornered Jake, but didn’t seem to be getting very far in her proposition to shut Jeremy in close proximity with his crush, because Brooke had joined in, probably trying to get proof for her totally correct conspiracy theory. Normally, Jeremy would freak at that, but he was a little too preoccupied with the raging storm in his head and in his gut.

Even without Jake’s interference, Jeremy was already stuck in close proximity with Michael. Sitting on his lap of all things, like an idiot with apparently no self-preservation instinct. It wasn’t his fault that his skin was sensitive and that the grass was itchy and had all these little gnat things jumping from blade to blade. Also not his fault that the August heat had left him in a bit of a fashion crisis. His usual jeans would probably lead to him getting heat stroke, if that was even possible, so he was left in shorts, completely exposed to the itchy mess that was nature. And again, he blamed Michael for being all together too hot. In both ways, really. It made it hard to breathe. Again, in both ways. Jeremy had been too busy swooning over the sight of his friend without his usual hoodie—the t-shirt he was wearing instead fit him a little too well, showing off the smooth curves of his shoulders and the shape of his chest—to make any coherent protest to sitting on the lawn. And Michael—sweet, perfect, too friendly for his own good, literal ball of sunshine, Michael—had noticed how uncomfortable he was in the grass and suggested that he simply be a barrier between Jeremy and the offending flora.

“You know, like a force field. I’ll be like, Gardevoir. Using my magic black holes to keep you safe from the evil Caterpies hiding in the tall grass.”

“Psychic types are weak to bug types, dumbass. Besides, you are pretty much the exact opposite of Gardevoir.” 

“What? You don’t think I’m pretty enough for all the kinky fanart?”

“Michael!”

“We’ve both seen your browser history, dude. Don’t try to hide it. Come on, just sit.”

Which is how Jeremy ended up here, sitting on Michael’s lap, painfully aware of every point of contact and how warm his face was. Even worse might’ve been Rich winking at them from where he still stood scheming with Jenna. So, of course, Jenna must know too and they would probably be the talk of the school tomorrow, whether anything happened or not. Awesome. Perfect. Great way to start the year.

If only Michael didn’t always made him feel so at home. Even with everything going on in Jeremy’s fucked up brain and heart, he found himself leaning into his friend’s warmth, even more so when Michael rested his chin on his head (no, Jeremy was not  _ that _ much shorter than him. He just slouched, okay?). It was distracting. Right, that was it. Distracting. He should’ve been worried about Brooke, whose eyes also kept darting towards them. He should’ve been worried about what he was going to have to say to Michael, but he was so comfortable that he could barely register that anything mattered at all. He didn’t need to say anything. Michael was here and he was warm and soft and Jeremy didn’t care about anything except the feeling of Michael’s hand in his.

Wait a minute.

Still in a daze, he lifted their clasped hands to his eye level. Michael stiffened behind him. “Uh…” he said. “I didn’t, um… I.”

“Michael?” Jeremy tilted his head back, looking up at the underside of Michael’s nose as he continued to stare ahead. It wasn’t the most flattering angle by any means, but Jeremy’s eyes still caught on the angle of his jaw. 

Michael swallowed. Jeremy could feel it behind his head. “Yeah?”

“Can—can I… Can I tell you, um… something? It’s kinda been on my mind for a while.”

Michael didn’t move. Jeremy’s fingers were still laced with his. He gave Michael’s hand a little squeeze, mostly to ground himself for what he was about to do, but also to reassure his friend. 

“Sure, man. Fire away.” Michael’s voice was thin, dry. Something clenched in Jeremy’s chest. This was already going so much worse than he’d planned. Michael wasn’t being casual about any of it. He wasn’t joking. There was no way to play this off. Part of him screamed to back out now. His throat was burning with anxious vomit and tears again, but he had already started. Nowhere to run. No other option.

Fuck.

“I—I, um. Well… Shit. I don’t—I don’t really know how to say this. Um… I. Damnit.” Jeremy took a deep breath and screwed his eyes shut. “I really like you. Like, really, really, think I’m just totally in love with you. And—and I know we’ve done this before, kinda. Like, before. Before. But this is—this feels different? Like, I’m not just in love with you, Michael—which I am, no like, totally, you’re gorgeous and sweet and funny and I can’t believe I’m actually saying all of this. But no, I’m also kinda… in love with like,  _ you _ you. If that makes sense? I’m sorry, I know this is probably dumb and you’re definitely  _ so  _ far out of my league, but… um… yeah? Please don’t let this be awkward forever now, because I don’t want to lose you just because I’m a lovesick idiot. Please, please, please.” 

Jeremy hadn’t noticed he was crying until Michael squeezed their clasped hands and leaned down to look at him, using his free hand to brush a thumb under Jeremy’s eyes. Jeremy blinked furiously, trying to dry his dripping, cold eyelashes. His breath caught in his throat when Michael pressed his lips to his cheek.

“M-Michael?”

He smiled, mouth still brushing over Jeremy’s face. “Yeah?” he mumbled against the skin.

“You’re—you’re not gonna say anything?”

Michael tipped his head away just far enough to look Jeremy in the eye. “Do I have to?”

“Yes!” Jeremy yanked himself forward, turning as well as he could in Michael’s lap. “Dude, I just spilled my guts! Do you have any idea how long I’ve had to psych myself up to say that? At least give me a response!”

“Oh, I knew,” Michael said with a smirk. “I’ve known for centuries. Probably longer than you have, honestly. You’re not subtle.”

Jeremy just stared. Stared at that dumb smirk that made the back of his neck go hot. Stared at that knowing look in Michael’s eyes, that was so warm and so  _ in love _ . How had he been so blind? “Then why? Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“You think I wanted to be  _ that guy _ ? Look at yourself, dude. You would’ve flipped the fuck out. I could’ve completely ruined my chances. It just seemed easier to let you figure it out. I mean, we had all eternity. I wasn’t all that worried about waiting. Besides, it was really cute watching you try to win over people like Brooke, because you really are hella charming. I’m not surprised Chloe got involved too.”

“Oh, okay.” Jeremy rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. “We’re really bringing up  _ exes _ ?” Jeremy started counting on his fingers. “How about Hyacinthus? Daphne? Cassandra? Castalia? Acantha? Bolina? Leucates? I could go on? And that was just in Greece!” 

Michael was grinning even wider now. “Okay, first of all, most of them actually hated my guts. They turned into plants to get away from me, remember? Besides, you were kinda busy running through the woods back then, having a blast chasing bears with your magical army of maidens, so I still think you had some more questionable things going on.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Jeremy grumbled, but as soon as he locked eyes with Michael, they both broke into giggles, Jeremy falling back into his friend’s chest. Michael wrapped his arms around him and Jeremy allowed himself to enjoy it this time, wrapped in his own blanket of sunshine. When their laughter died down, he said, “Wait, if you knew the whole time, why were you so nervous earlier?”

“Oh.” Michael cleared his throat and looked away. “Well, I mean, the rushing into it bit. I thought you were maybe freaked out by me holding your hand and I'd done too much too soon. I was kinda also worried that you were getting too freaked out about the secrecy stuff, especially since you still haven’t stopped texting me about being scared that Brooke and Jenna probably know and are gonna spread it. I was kinda afraid you were gonna suggest we like, leave. And go back to floating in circles in space. And I kinda hate it up there, because we’re stuck like almost a hundred million miles apart and, in case you hadn’t realized yet, I kinda sorta love you too. I don’t like being stuck on opposite sides of the sky.”

A wave of heat washed over Jeremy, leaving his skin buzzing. Tears pricked in his eyes again, welling up with some emotion he couldn’t describe. It was a good one, though. Definitely good. “Wow,” he whispered, “that is so fucking sappy.”

“Shut up,” Michael’s groan was half laughter as he rolled onto his back, pulling Jeremy down onto the grass with him. 

“No, no! I liked it.” 

Michael grinned up at him. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Jeremy was very aware of how close their faces were, noses nearly touching. Michael’s breath fluttered against his lips. He shifted slightly so he was straddling him.

“Oh, wow,” Michael breathed. Jeremy just smiled, sudden confidence settling in his chest now that his worries had stopped their screaming chorus. 

“Can I?”

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

“Really? I’m pretty sure we ended up married in our last life. This isn’t exactly new.” Jeremy was teasing now, arms resting on the grass beside Michael’s head, staring into his eyes beyond the glasses. They were like the sun. Maybe just because it was sort of obvious and natural to relate  _ everything _ about Michael to the sun. Right?  _ Duh. _ But there was something about their depth and warmth and the light always flickering inside. 

“Not like this. I’m not sure what happens with this. Now can you hurry the fuck up? Because I want to find out.”

And so Jeremy closed the distance. 

It was less than an inch, but it felt like so much more. It was like he’d drawn those hundred million miles together to a single point where their lips connected. Michael’s lips were so warm. Everything about him was so warm, and Jeremy felt like a million galaxies were exploding inside him. Michael’s hands trailed shooting stars up his sides as Jeremy wove his fingers through his hair. A chill went across his skin, settling into the heat of his blush. Michael was melting underneath him, mouth falling open, and Jeremy melted in. It didn’t matter that Michael’s glasses were pressing in between their noses. It didn’t matter that the grass was still tickling his arms and legs. It didn’t matter that they were in the middle of a crowd in the heat of the day. They were dancing together through a field of stars. They weren’t stuck on opposite ends of the sky anymore. They were here, together, and Jeremy let himself get lost in the promise of that, which drifted across Michael’s breath. 

Until finally, they remembered that human bodies need oxygen and pulled apart. 

The noise of the barbecue buzzed back into focus, a collection of cheers humming in the air. Jeremy whirled around.  _ Shit. _ Everyone saw their first kiss. That was very much  _ not _ according to plan. And yet, his frantically searching eyes found a crowd turned towards the sky. Sure, their friends were sending them knowing looks—Christine was beaming, Jake shot a thumbs up, Rich whistled slightly, and Chloe and Jenna were both smirking—but everyone else was staring at the darkness above. 

Wait, darkness?

Jeremy’s gaze switched to the sun (the one in the sky, not Michael, who was still laying on his back and surveying the scene for himself). It wasn’t there, replaced instead by a glowing halo. 

“Holy shit,” Jeremy whispered.

“We caused an eclipse! That’s so cool!” Michael smiled up at him, grin wild, eyes dancing with light, and hair flared all over the place around his head from Jeremy’s fingers, like his own little halo. His glasses were askew. Jeremy was hit with another wave of burning affection, an urge to take his face in his hands and kiss him until the world exploded. He leaned down to do just that, when he caught Brooke’s stare.  

She was looking at the two of them with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape. She looked pointedly at the lack of sun in the sky and then back at them. The accusation, the realization, and just how screwed they were sat in her face, and, miraculously, Jeremy didn’t give a damn. 

He glanced at Michael and then back up at Brooke. He smiled, waved, flipped her off (in the friendly way), and found Michael’s lips again, drowning in light and warmth. 


	8. Sailor Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some resolution for the Brooke issue, a whole lot of Jeremy's self-doubt, and more random mythology references than might be healthy.

“I just don’t get why you actually said yes.”

“Dude,” Michael said, glaring at him over the lunch table, “I have been waiting for you to ask me out,  _ actually  _ ask  _ me  _ out, not just like, whatever we’re supposed to call the people we turn into down here—I don’t know, hosts?—for fucking centuries. Of course I said yes.”

“But, like… Why?”

“Jeremy.”

“Why me? You’re so perfect, and I’m a stupid rock. What could you possibly see in me?” Jeremy stared down at his questionable cafeteria french fries that basically tasted like styrofoam with ketchup. 

“Is that what this is about?” Michael kicked him under the table, forcing is eyes up. “Geez, dude. How long have you felt shitty about this?” 

Jeremy sighed. Honestly, he had no idea. It wasn’t like he’d actually thought that much about it. It was more that he just sort of always knew that Michael was better than him and assumed he thought the same. It wasn’t hard to see. No one liked the moon. No one liked night time or darkness. He was just always around to be the thing the wolves howled at, the creepy reflection in the water, the last detail of some kid’s Halloween drawing. The crescent moon scribbled in the corner because it makes it obvious it’s night and you can’t have Halloween during the day because then it’s not scary. 

And even if it wasn’t being a symbol of the night and therefore of creepy evil things, it was still weird as shit. The man in the moon, who was always grinning and watching. Stalker. Or the mysterious girl who showed up for a dumb reason that was either not her fault or never talked about, did some alien shit, and then flew home to the moon because she was too good for this cruel world. Aloof asshole. Or the rabbits. He honestly didn’t know where the rabbit thing came from, but so many cultures didn’t even care enough about him to give him a full deity. Yeah, we’ve got the sun, king of the gods, and then, oh yeah, the moon bunny. That makes sense. 

Then there was Michael. Gorgeous, warm, life-giving, cause of the seasons and everything growing and basically all the good stuff you could want. Everyone would rather be around the sun than the moon. Hell, Jeremy would too.

“I just—I don’t know. I can’t believe you want to deal with me at all. I’m pathetic. I’m weird and dark and a fucking mess. And to top it all off, I’m not even that interesting. All that work to land on the moon and then they realized I’m shitty and boring and just stopped. They even named the expeditions after you in the first place,” Jeremy said, pushing his lunch tray aside and burying his face in his arms on the table. 

Michael thunked him on the head with the butt of his slushie cup. Jeremy blinked up at him. “Shut the fuck up, dude,” Michael said. “Look. I’m not good at being poetic about any of this, so like, deal with it, but you need to stop hating on yourself. Have you paid any attention? Yeah, they aren’t doing moon missions anymore, but they did a ton of them and spent a shitload of money and crap. And the whole reason they went in the first place was because of the space race. Everyone thought you were so cool that they basically fought a war over who could actually see you up close first. And like, there was that one astronaut that did two Apollo missions and never actually got to land because Apollo Thirteen had that explosion thing. Have you seen that movie? His entire character arc was about him being super upset that he never actually got to walk on the moon. Plus, have you ever read a poem or a book? I know you have because you complain about English homework all the time. So many literary metaphors are based around you being awesome. People think you’re so cool. Yeah, you’re weird and people don’t really understand you, but like, that’s pretty sweet. It means they’re always just seeing you as this super cool, super pretty thing. Also, um…” 

Jeremy was starting to tear up. Michael was so good. He was trying so hard to prove to Jeremy that he wasn’t boring, and even if Jeremy didn’t believe everything he was saying, still didn’t see himself as anything special, the fact that Michael had noticed these things at all made some kind of balloon of love and pride inflate in his chest. Also, Michael was getting very into his explanations, and Jeremy had always been a sucker for the way his eyes sparkled when he was excited and the lilt of his voice as he got more and more carried away. Michael was throwing his arms out as he talked, staring intently at Jeremy with his hair flopping across his forehead and light glinting on his glasses. His tongue was tinted blue from his lunch slushie and Jeremy was getting choked up. He bit his lips shut around his growing smile. 

“Oh! Right, there was this one textpost thing I saw somewhere. Like, about how people always say ‘he looked at her like she was the sun’ but that’s dumb because most people just squint at me so it should be ‘he looked at her like she was the moon’ instead because people gaze at you in wonder and shit, and obviously I’m not quoting directly, but you get the idea.” Michael eyed him for a second, frowning at Jeremy’s watery expression. “Are you okay?”

“Perfect,” Jeremy said. His emotion bubbled over into a giddy laugh. He wanted to kiss Michael, but they’d been idiots and had sat on opposite sides of the lunch table. Instead, he just grabbed his arm and wrapped it in the best hug he could. It didn’t work well, but he leaned halfway over the table to grip onto his boyfriend and try to transfer some of his crushing affection into Michael in what way he could. “Thanks, man,” he mumbled into his arm. Maybe he should’ve just gotten up and gone to sit next to him. 

“Hey, Artemis, why are you laying on the table?” Rich’s voice rang behind Jeremy, who pulled away from Michael and went back to his lunch, face hot. 

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Why not? You let headphones kid call you that. Or is that different because you  _ love  _ him?” Jeremy could hear Rich’s smirk as he flopped down next to him. He tried to tune it out by stuffing his face with french fries, but they tasted even more like soggy cardboard when they were cold. 

“I don’t know,” Michael said, “he doesn’t like me using that name either. I think it’s because bringing up the huntress thing reminds him that I know he’s a furry.”

“Michael!” Jeremy’s cheeks were on fire now. He vaguely registered the rest of the group gathering around them, finally returned from classes that weren’t as fortunate as his and Michael’s was to get out ten minutes early. 

Rich cackled. “Come on, it’s fun. Who stuck a stick up your ass?” 

“Like six different countries. I’ve got flags and probes and rovers and all that shit up in here,” Jeremy said with a roll of his eyes, face still pink, “so deal with it.”

Michael snorted and smirked, speaking around his slushie straw. “Would Sailor Moon be better?”

“No!” Jeremy practically shrieked. He kicked at Michael, shoving Rich to get him to stop howling with laughter and pretending his ears weren’t burning red. Michael losing it across the table didn’t help his blush. 

For all his embarrassment, though, Jeremy loved this. He was messing around with his beautiful boyfriend, the literal light of his life—and everyone else’s, technically, but that wasn’t the point—and they didn’t have to worry about secrets anymore. No hidden feelings. No half-baked excuses. No hiding powers they’d never really realized they had. It stilled something that had been bubbling in his gut for longer than he could remember, like all the weight of his several hundred lifetimes had been lifted from his shoulders. Space rock or not, he could finally just be a teenager with his friends. Honestly, he had to thank Brooke. 

The girl in question had planted herself on the other side of him. She stole one of his fries in his distraction—trying to make Rich shut up and still forcing down the urge to hurdle the table to make out with a now snorting Michael—only to take a bite and grimace at it.  “Wow, the fries really suck today,” she said, “which is weird, because they’re usually the only thing that’s edible.”

“Tell me about it,” Jeremy said, glad for a change of subject. Michael and Rich were now trading increasingly dumb, moon-themed nicknames in poorly-concealed stage whispers. Yes, he could hear every single one, from Coyolxauhqui (the Aztecs’ name for that one time they thought he was a severed head trying to eat the earth; he wouldn’t expect anyone but Michael to pronounce it correctly, and he only could because he had been there) to Moon Moon (the fucking derpy wolf meme that only proved Rich spent too much time on tumblr) to Nut (the Egyptian sky goddess that wasn’t even  _ him, _ especially because Egypt was a mess and he and Michael had taken completely human forms the whole time for simplicity’s sake and Michael  _ knew _ that). Whatever. Dumbasses (and yes, he used that word as a term of endearment, fuck off). 

“You okay?” Brooke asked. She was staring at him, inspecting whatever jumble the look in his eyes must’ve been. He honestly didn’t know. His life was such a mess. His lives always were. This mess was just different. It was like he was going to explode, he was thinking and feeling so many different things at once. 

Jeremy stirred the dregs of soupy ketchup on his lunch tray with the last few fries, letting the red gunk drip off the spears of starch. “Yeah, I’m good. Not sure what the hell is going on anymore, but that’s nothing new.”

“Look, I’m…” Brooke was suddenly very interested in her nails, picking at the edges of the shimmery polish. She swallowed. Jeremy just stared. “I’m sorry I hounded you about the whole celestial thing. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable and I’m sorry I told everyone without asking you guys first. I guess I just didn’t realize it was probably personal and all of that. I’m—I’m just really sorry. I wish I could say it better. I didn’t think.”

“It’s okay,” Jeremy said without hesitation. Yeah, it had caused him a fuck ton of stress. Yeah, he wasn’t sure he was completely used to people knowing and teasing him about it. He wasn’t sure he liked the secrecy being gone, but he couldn’t say he disliked it either. It was just different. And he couldn’t be mad about different. “It’s really no big deal. Someone was bound to figure it out eventually. And I mean, it's just our friends. At least you didn’t go and tell the whole world.”

Brooke laughed lightly, letting out the breath she’d been holding. “I’m pretty sure I’d get laughed off the Internet if I tried. No one would believe two losers from New Jersey were gods. Really, I’m not even sure everyone here believes it. Christine, obviously, with her being a star and all, and I think I got Jenna convinced, and Rich will buy into anything, but Jake and Chloe are kinda avoiding the topic.”

“They thought we were weird anyway,” Jeremy said with a shrug. “And I think I’m okay with skeptics. Being a god is exhausting. I’ve done it enough to know that much.” He looked around at the table, at Chloe and Jenna poring over pages of Psychology notes for their next class, at a starry-eyed Christine describing the fall play to whoever would listen—in this case, Jake, who was actually paying attention, and Rich, who was not-so-discreetly trying to stick the star-shaped stickers he’d swiped from her backpack in her hair—in her sweet singsong voice, at Michael who was stabbing at the remains of his slushie with the straw, stirring and swirling it to try and fight whatever stupid physics made it impossible to finish without scooping out the ice. Yeah, he liked this a lot more than the god stuff. 

Michael glanced up from the blue raspberry sludge to meet Jeremy’s eyes. He raised an eyebrow. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jeremy fought down another blush. Another fluttery grin. He hadn’t realized he was staring at Michael. Hadn’t noticed the way his eyes locked onto Michael’s concentrated pout and squinty glare between the strands of hair that fell across his glasses. He hadn’t realized he was allowed to, honestly. 

“I like you,” Jeremy said with a shrug. Trying to play it off. Trying to pretend that being able to say the words so casually didn’t make something inside him glow just a little. Honestly, if it was dark enough to tell, he might’ve _actually_ been glowing. The joy he felt completely enveloped in the look in Michael’s eyes made him feel like he was flying. That look that was confused but so happy, so completely transfixed. Jeremy couldn’t possibly grasp how Michael could look at  _ him _ like that, but the fact of it turned his insides to stars. He was falling apart, glistening like diamonds in the night sky, and  _ somehow, _ Michael felt the same. 

“Damn right,” Michael said, chuckling and kicking at him under the table again. “So, now that you two are done being all deep and shit, do you want to hear the sweet news I overheard in calc?” 

“Sure,” Brooke said, nudging Jeremy a little to pull him out of his Michael-filled reverie. 

“Turns out they’ve already picked a theme for the homecoming dance. And we all know dances are over-hyped shit, but this one actually sounds pretty rad. And pretty serendipitous, if you get my drift. Like, I’m pretty sure Jake must’ve been the one to suggest it. He’s on the homecoming committee, right? Pretty sure that was one of the  _ too many _ extracurriculars he does.” Michael shot a playful glare at Jake before continuing. “Basically, I’m only telling you this to explain what I’m gonna do next, but the theme is Fly Me to the Moon, and is supposed to be all kinds of nifty, celestial, space shit. Like, totally up our alley, Jer.” He kicked Jeremy again, who was holding back disbelieving laughter and, again, an overwhelming desire to be closer to Michael. 

“I thought you said Jake was a skeptic?” Jeremy glanced at Brooke.

She shrugged and giggled. “Doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy a good inside joke. That totally sounds like him.” 

“Right?” Michael was playing with his slushie again, swirling the straw around in the almost empty cup. “And um… well, I thought…” He wouldn’t make eye contact. Jeremy’s heart swooped. Why was Michael nervous? A million warnings flashed in his head about what could possibly make his boyfriend close off like this, but none of them were coherent enough for Jeremy to grasp anything but a growing dread. He reached out and took Michael’s hand, for both of their sakes. 

“Just say what’s on your mind, dude.”

Michael’s face broke into a wobbly smile. “I know you hate cheesy public proposals with posters and shit, so I figured I’d just ask? You wanna go to homecoming with me? We can totally rock all the celestial kings vibe we want. Or just go to a dance like normal people. That works too. But like, only if you want to. I know dances have never really been our thing.”

Jeremy couldn’t hold back a smile of his own. “Absolutely,” he said, and the relief that spilled across Michael’s expression was enough to tempt him— _ again _ —to clamber across the table and kiss him. “On one condition.”

A slight cloud crossed Michael’s eyes. He nodded quizzically.

“Never call me Sailor Moon again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for now, folks!  
> Thank you so much for reading! Comments are always welcome, appreciated, and invited. I'd love to hear your thoughts.
> 
> I hadn't intended for this to suggest a sequel, but it kind of does. Oops. If you'd like to see the homecoming dance as possibly a follow-up, I'm willing to write it, but you'll have to let me know.


	9. Fly Me to the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The homecoming dance sequel/epilogue, as per request. Almost entirely fluff.

“I hate assholes,” Jeremy muttered, pushing past a gaggle of gremlins blocking the punch bowl. “Why do the freshmen keep getting smaller _and_ ruder?”

“Jeremy, calm down," Christine said, trailing behind him. "You're here to have fun, and so are they."

Jeremy sighed, shoving some goblins aside and ignoring their subsequent glares. "I know, I know. Just... Ugh. If I knew homecoming would just be a crap ton of freshmen shoved in the gym, I'm not sure I would've bothered." Christine put a hand on his shoulder, whirling him around. Her face shimmered with layers of silvery eyeshadow. Her eyes were warm and her fingers grounded him. Her sparkly, gauzy silver dress was adorned with metallic stars. Jeremy couldn't tell if she was simply glittering in all of the shitty party lights littered throughout the gym or if she was actually shining. Either was likely.

"Hey," Christine said. "You're just freaking out because Michael's not here, aren't you?"

"Well yeah!" Jeremy sputtered. "Not only are we like, the only seniors here, but my date ditched me!"

The thing about homecoming that they, as antisocial losers, hadn't noticed earlier was that it wasn't really something their age group _did._ Homecoming was for the people who weren’t old enough for prom yet. The upperclassmen did the royalty thing and the football game that Jeremy wouldn’t go to if they paid him. The end. Leave the sardine can that was the school gym to the fish. Not even Jake had shown up, and he _planned_ the fucking thing. Okay, sure. He had an archery meet or some shit. Whatever.

So far, it wasn’t necessarily _bad,_ but it was kinda, sorta, _very_ cliche. Like the school dance scene at the end of a Disney sitcom: cheap crepe paper streamers strung between rafters, a tacky disco ball dangling by a thread under one of the basketball hoops, garbage music that was somewhere between pop and techno—but without the catchiness of either—blaring from some burnt-out sound system and echoing through a room never designed for acoustics. The refreshment table was laden with pretzels and stale potato chips and some sticky, pinkish concoction that was probably—sadly—without any alcohol _or_ flavor. Teacher chaperones who were not being paid enough stood guard by the doors. Honestly, the place almost looked less depressing during gym class. Almost.

Jeremy was weaving his way through a crowd of tweenyboppers (okay, that was harsh, but none of them could have been older than fifteen, and he had a good six inches or more on every single one of them), all standing in little gender-coded huddles. Even though he _knew_ some of them must’ve come with dates, the gym was still segregated: overly-perfumed girls with extravagant hair and makeup wobbling on impossible heels into their huddles, sweaty guys in too-large, borrowed suits leaning awkwardly on the grimy bleachers and trying to psych up the courage to try and talk to one of the girls. Jeremy hoped he hadn’t looked like that three years ago.

Oh, who was he kidding?

At least he didn’t look like that _now._ You know, hopefully.

What the fuck was he doing here?

“Michael did not ditch you,” Christine said. “He hasn’t ditched you once in all the time you’ve known him. Why would he start now, especially when he’s the one who invited you?”

“I know, it’s just.” Jeremy took a deep breath. “I guess I’m realizing why I’ve never bothered to go to a school dance before this.”

“Same dude, but we can’t leave before we’ve had at least one sappy slow dance,” Michael’s voice cut through the static of party sound, and Jeremy almost got whiplash turning to him. Michael stood just behind Christine, having followed their wading through the sea of children. A sideways smile shone across his lips. His eyes were bright behind his glasses (which were, for the first time in Jeremy’s memory, free of streaks and fingerprints, glistening in a way that only made Michael’s eyes _more_ noticeable). His hair was slicked back and Jeremy _ached_ to ruin it. To run his hands through and make it stick up everywhere, because Michael looked so hot, put together in his crisp black suit and tie—printed with eight-bit shine sprites, to match Jeremy’s, which had power moons—and Jeremy almost couldn’t take it. It was like staring into the sky on a cloudless day. You risked going blind. If he could just tousle that coif, then maybe Michael wouldn’t look so much like a god and maybe Jeremy could keep his head on his shoulders and his heart in his chest.

He needed sunglasses or something, before he fainted in a sort of ingenue slump from his boyfriend’s sheer presence. Would Michael catch him? Carry him to be draped over some soft surface before waking him with true love’s kiss? Where he would open his eyes to the intoxication of Michael’s sweet lips, barely aware of anything else and so completely willing to surrender and stay like that until the inevitable heat death of the universe?

Holy shit. That was a thought that Jeremy had to cut off before he got carried away.    

So he did the next best thing: tackle Michael into the nearest wall and fucking _wreck_ him with a kiss.

Michael made a choked noise, grasping at the lapels of Jeremy’s jacket. Jeremy’s fingers burned where they pressed into the back of Michael’s scalp, his thumbs brushing red-hot streaks across his cheeks. Michael kissed back, pulling Jeremy closer with fists curled in his shirt. His glasses cut into their faces. Jeremy fell into the touch, lava pulsing in his veins, but then Michael shoved them apart. Just slightly, but apart. Jeremy couldn’t help his pathetic whimpering noise at the loss of contact.

“Jeremy,” Michael breathed, “I love you, man, but _geez._ Keep your shirt on.” He smoothed the fabric of Jeremy’s suit back down, adjusting his tie. A smirk danced its way across his lips, and Jeremy swallowed down the urge to just go right back to making out. “We’re in public. Keep it in your pants for a few hours.”

Jeremy staggered backwards. Suddenly, it felt like the every eye in the gym was trained on them. The heat painting his skin had turned harsh. “S-sorry,” he muttered. “I… shit.”

“Hey,” Michael leaned in for a swift, soft peck, and Jeremy’s nerves settled. “It’s fine. It’s chill. I’ve been waiting millenia for this. You don’t have to apologize. Just… time and place, you know?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry. Wait, no, I mean—”

Michael laughed, and _damn,_ Jeremy could live in that sound. Michael’s laugh was like the swirling of galaxies. It was so much more staggering—staggeringly gorgeous, staggeringly gigantic, staggeringly perfect—than anyone could comprehend. “I have something for you,” he said, fiddling with Jeremy’s tie again, smoothing it over and over, like he didn’t know what else to do with his hands.

“Is that why you were _late?_ You went _shopping?"_

Michael rolled his eyes. “It was like ten minutes, because I couldn’t find parking after dropping of you and Christine. By the way, parking is so completely gross around here. You’d think it would be better when most of these kids were totally dropped off by their parents, but the parking lot must just be complete ass because I can _never_ find a spot. But yeah, also that.”

Michael pulled out a plastic takeout box. Wait, no. Not a takeout box. One of the weird containers that corsages come in so they don’t get squished. He popped it open and held out two flowers—without the tacky, expensive extra crap like ribbons and sequins, thank goodness.

“See,” he said, “I know you shut down my awesome idea of showing up in robes and crowns and stuff, but I still thought it could be kinda cool to like, own it? Space themed dance, right? Might as well show off.” Jeremy took the sunflower, holding it by its stem as it turned to stay focused on Michael.

“So if you get a sunflower, does that mean there’s actually a thing called a moonflower? And you managed to get a hold of it?”

Michael held up the other blossom. “You doubt me? Really, Jer? I delved into the deepest caverns of the Lunatone caves to find this rare and magical flower, and you fucking doubt me?”

Jeremy snorted. “Don’t think I missed that Pokemon reference, dude.” He slipped the sunflower into the pocket of Michael’s jacket.

“Okay, fine,” Michael said with a roll of his eyes. “It’s basically just a white morning glory, but I went and asked Chloe because she knows weird shit like flowers, and this was what she had. Her cousin is a florist, apparently? Anyway, _yes_ it is actually called a moonflower.” He stuck it behind Jeremy’s ear, tucking it in amidst his hair, and heat creeped up Jeremy’s neck again. He batted Michael’s hand away and adjusted the flower himself.

“Fuck off,” he mumbled, to no one in particular. He finally looked around. Christine had given up on them and was chatting in the corner with some of her theatre friends. The freshmen were giving them a wide berth. Probably a good idea. No one wanted to be near the seniors who were sucking face. PDA’s gross. You know, if you’re not the one doing it.

Jeremy never thought he’d be _that_ guy. Michael brought out the worst in him.

“Oh, dude!” Michael said, grabbing his arm and pulling him out of his self-conscious reverie. “We’ve still gotta dance.”

“Wait, now?” Jeremy tuned in to the crackling intercom speakers. “This song is so sappy.”

The grin on Michael’s face was too. “It’s a classic! Elvis Presley, King of Rock! Also, it’s the first slow song I’ve heard so far, and I’d be very down for getting the dance part of this dance out of the way as soon as possible, you know?”

Michael also brought out the best in him.

Jeremy let Michael drag him to the center of the gym. They stood right on top of the faded school logo emblazoned on the ground. Jeremy couldn’t help but think of every time he’d fallen on his ass there in the middle of the Pacer. Or every time he’d flipped it off because high school sucks and if he couldn’t take it out on the school itself, the poorly-painted mascot would have to do.

Michael took Jeremy’s hand, draping his other arm around his waist. Jeremy gripped his shoulder with his free hand. “I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.”

“Don’t worry,” Michael said with a chuckle. “It’s a school dance. No one does.”

Jeremy dropped his head forward into the crook of Michael’s neck. He had _no idea what the fuck he was doing,_ and his absolutely terrible form with whatever this dance was supposed to be wasn’t helping his confidence. But Michael didn’t care. Michael was with him. Michael wanted to be with him. And also, well, _with_ him. He was warm and stable and constant, and it didn’t matter how out of place Jeremy felt—or how out of place Michael felt, because as much as Jeremy idolized him, he knew that his boyfriend had issues too, so like, at least they were even—because they were together.

 _“And I can’t help falling in love with you,”_ Michael hummed along with the song, breathing out the lyrics of the chorus.

“I think you’ve already started.” Jeremy’s voice was muffled in Michael’s neck. “Unless you’re about to break the news to me that this was all some cosmic practical joke, in which case, you’re a dick.”

Michael laughed and pulled him closer by his waist. “We both know that both of us can tend to be dicks anyway,” he said. Jeremy giggled. He could get used to this. Being held up against Michael, trading jokes and insults just like always. This was just like always, except now they could kiss too, and Jeremy swore the stars aligned every time they did.

“Yeah, remember that time you fucked off to hide out in a cave and left the world to be attacked by demons?”

“I thought we agreed not to talk about that,” Michael said in mock offense. “Besides, I got a flayed pony thrown at me. I think I’m entitled to take a vacation after something like that.”

“Right, sure. That’s fair.” Jeremy lifted his head back up to look at him. He tried and failed to smother a crooked grin. “One question, though: you still into strip teases? I’m no dawn goddess, but I’m totally down to give it a shot.”

Michael exploded into laughter, pulling away from Jeremy so he could crack up. He was wheezing and snorting and it was a mess, and Jeremy’s heart felt like a hot air balloon, swelling and soaring away as he cackled along.

“Holy shit, Jeremy,” Michael choked out, taking off his glasses to wipe away at the tears starting to bead in his eyes, “you can’t just _say_ things like that.”

* * *

Christine would tell them later that, as they composed themselves and continued dancing, the other students seemed to orbit around them. The dancers spun in their paths, with the sun and moon in the center. Their own little solar system.

Christine would also tell them that the teachers were complaining afterwards about the absolute mess that someone made of the refreshment table. Punch had been sloshed everywhere, sprayed out of the bowl onto the table, the floor, and even the walls, drenching everything in pink stickiness. Neither Jeremy nor Michael had the heart to break it to her that they’d gotten into a “mild” punch fight. Jeremy, upon remembering that _oh right, the tides are a thing I can mess with,_ and wondering if that applied to all liquids, had forcibly prevented Michael from trying the punch by waterbending it out of his cup. And it had kind of just escalated from there.

Needless to say, they bailed after that.

And Jeremy realized—not for the first time, of course—as they stood in line at Seven-Eleven, ties coming undone, Michael’s jacket knotted around his waist, the sunflower in his hair. He realized as they fought over slushie flavors and donuts and the chip bag that they now had to pay for because they’d torn it open. Jeremy realized.

He realized he’d fallen in love.

He was still falling.

And he wouldn’t change it for all the stars in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I've never actually been to homecoming. I went to prom, but not homecoming. Excuse my creative liberty on those grounds.  
> I mentioned Amaterasu and the Cave mostly because I hadn't given Michael enough love with the mythology references, and there are some great ones.  
> In general, I know Jeremy had a lot more depth than Michael did. Sorry? Blame it on me writing a Jeremy POV without any major angst that would prompt him to think about Michael's issues.  
> Hope you liked it! I'm always open to feedback, so please comment if you're so inclined. 
> 
> The end!


End file.
